Book 3 of the "Sons of Scandal" trilogy
(The books do not have to be read in order.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's an absolute
scandal when Captain Matthew Leland arrives at Madingley Court. Presumed dead in battle, his sudden appearance gives the tonquite
the shock. But no one is more surprised than Matthew, because waiting
for him at home is a bewitching, blue-eyed beauty--and she claims to be
his wife!

Miss Emily Grey was alone in the world when a knight in shining armor
came to her rescue, claimed her heart, and then disappeared. But now
her little white lie, a desperate act of self-
preservation, has come back to haunt her. Her husband, once a far-off
fantasy, is now a flesh-and-blood man who insists she share his bed...

Matthew has no memory of any marriage to this scheming seductress, and
he's determined to expose her in every way. But a life with the
exquisite Emily will prove irresistible...and a
marriage of deception will become a marriage of sweet, sweet surrender.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REVIEWS

"What sets Callen's latest apart from the usual "hero returns to find
himself married
to a poser" romances are the intelligent, likable characters who don't
fall into the
trap of foolish misunderstandings. They think their way through the
situation
as their love grows. That's why Callen is deservedly such a favorite."RT Bookreviews
Magazine

(The following is the property of the
author and Avon Books, and cannot be
copied or reprinted without permission.)

(Story
Setup: Matthew was thought dead in battle in India through a
miscommunication. He discovers the mistake and returns home to find
that Emily has been living with his family as his widow, but he never
married her. He sees how much his family trusts her, and what a big
scandal
this would be if he revealed the truth. He decides to take his time
figuring out the real story, so he tells Emily and his family that his
war wounds gave him partial memory loss, and that he doesn't remember
being married. Emily faints, and Matthew carries her to their room.)

Emily Grey opened her eyes, thinking
groggily that
she was supposed to be in the drawing room. Instead she was lying on
her back,
beneath the canopy of a bed—in her husband’s
bedroom.

It all came to her suddenly, and her
wary gaze found
the man who’d brought her here, who now watched her after his
pleasant
greeting.

The dead man she’d claimed
as her husband.

She’d thought she’d become a
strong woman, but his entrance
into the drawing room had stunned her so that she’d been
speechless, unable to
think about what to do. She’d fully expected to find herself
tossed from the
house.

But he hadn’t denounced her. When
he’d said he’d lost part
of his memory, her relief had been so absolute she must have fainted.
How
appallingly weak of her. Weakness was a liability; only her strength
and her
wits would see her through this now.

She found herself studying Captain Matthew
Leland, trying to
remember the man she’d known for only a few hours not quite
two years ago, the
man whose death she’d used for her own convenience.

But he wasn’t dead. He was very much
alive, and alone with
her in the bedroom they were supposed to share as husband and wife.

But he wasn’t her husband.

She wouldn’t panic. This rare illness
of his had given her
the chance to continue as his wife. She was strong now, and had learned
she was
capable of doing terrible things in order to survive. And she would
survive
this.

“Matthew?” His name came out
in a feigned whisper of
disbelief.

Casually he leaned against the bedpost, arms
folded across
his chest, and a small smile turned up his lips. He was a handsome man,
as
she’d thought from the first moment she’d seen him
on a boat in the stormy English
Channel. He had dark, auburn hair that glistened
by lamplight. His amused eyes were hazel, not just one color, but
changeable
the more she looked at him. When she’d first met him,
she’d thought his eyes
intense, as if he would focus only on her whenever they spoke together.
With a
classically square jaw and thin lips, he was the picture of what a
handsome man
should look like. He was still broad with muscle, perhaps even more so
since
he’d been serving as a soldier in India.
His coat almost seemed too
tight across his shoulders, as if he hadn’t had time to
purchase a new one
since he’d been back.

Well, of course, he hadn’t.
He’d rushed straight from the
ship to tell his parents that he was alive—only to find a
wife he didn’t
remember.

What would his wife do?

Without a second thought, she flung herself from
the bed and
into his arms. He didn’t even stagger, so strong was he. She
thought he
hesitated, but at last his arms came around her, and she was enveloped
by
warmth—but not security. She would never delude herself.
She’d grown up
thinking that marriage meant security, but she’d found it
herself, without
needing an actual husband. She’d learned never to rely on
anyone else.

At last she leaned back to look up at him,
smiling with
happiness, forcing tears to glisten in her eyes.
“Matthew!” She repeated his
name with gladness and joy.

He was smiling down at her, which gave her some
ease, but he
studied her face closely. Should she kiss him, distract him from
thinking too
deeply? She was fully prepared to do what was necessary,
but…something stopped
her.

“They called you Emily,” he
said slowly, as if testing out
her name on his tongue, his voice a deep rumble of masculinity.

She grinned as her hands stroked down his
shoulders. “I was
Emily Grey, but you made me a Leland.” She let her smile
fade. “But now I don’t
know what to do. I want to show my happiness for your safe return, and
cry at
the same time. Do you truly remember nothing?”

He shook his head. “A fine homecoming
for a wife who hadn’t
allowed herself to hope I would return.”

His hands slid down her back slowly, coming to
rest on her
waist. She’d wanted to distract him, but strangely, just his
touch was
distracting her. She could not risk such a mental failing.

“How could I hope?” she
asked, fingering his lapels. “They
said you were dead. I was ill when your mother told me. Even now I
remember how
lost I felt. But to you, I am just a newly introduced
stranger.” As a tear fell
from her lashes, she was grateful for such a mask behind which to hide.
Though
she was playing with fire, she reached to touch his cheek, feeling the
warmth
of his skin and roughness of stubble.

Suddenly, his hands tightened on her waist,
pulling her even
more intimately against him. His gaze was centered on her mouth.

He thought she was his wife. He could claim his
marital
rights.

She found she couldn’t breathe, her
breasts rising and
falling against the hard wall of his chest. Though he was not an
exceptionally
tall man like his cousin the duke, he still leaned over her, powerful
and
intimidating. If he ever remembered everything—

He bent even closer, his mouth just above hers.
She felt his
breath, knew an intense ache that she couldn’t identify. To
her surprise, at
the last second he turned his head and pressed his warm lips to her
cheek. He
let her go so quickly that she stumbled back against the bed.

He caught her arm, his smile charmingly
distressed. “I
need…time to get to know you again, almost as if we are
starting over. I know
that isn’t fair to you—”

“Of course it’s
fair,” she said, almost too hastily. She was
supposed to be distraught and sad—but she could also be an
understanding wife.
She took a deep breath, then patted his hand where it still gripped her
upper
arm. “This is all a shock to me, too.”

He nodded.

“We have not seen each other in over a
year,” she continued,
feeling calmer, stronger. “I find myself wondering how
you’ve changed,
wondering what you’ve seen and done while in the
army.”

He let her go and stepped back. “My
parents said you’d spent
six months with me in India.”

“Until you thought I would be in too
much danger if I stayed
with you. Do you remember any of that?”

He slowly shook his head.

“By the time I returned to England
to meet your family, it was
only to hear that they’d already had word that you
were—dead.” She looked away,
inspired to fumble for the handkerchief on her bedside table. She blew
her
nose.

When she looked back at him, he was walking
toward the desk.

“I found our marriage
license,” he said.

Her breath halted in her lungs as she waited for
him to
continue.

“It’s dated only two days
before I left for India.
I
remember some of the preparations in London,
the
train journey to Southampton,
but not how long
I spent there.”

“Two weeks. It is where we met. I am
from a nearby village,
where my father was a country squire.”

“Was?” He sat on the edge of
the desk, watching her.

Was he deliberately keeping his distance? What a
shock he
must be feeling, faced with a woman he thought intimately connected to
him. She
could not let herself feel sorry for him or for what she was doing.

“My father and brothers perished in a
boating accident on
the Channel,” she said.

Even now, the memories of the wind rising up, the
waves
crashing over the bow haunted her, distracted her. In her nightmares,
she could
still see her oldest brother swept over the side, vanishing from sight.
She did
not have to fake these emotions; they pierced her stomach with such
sorrow that
she’d been unable to come up with a lie for
Matthew’s family.

“I was sailing with my father and
brothers when the boat
tore apart in the storm. As I clung to the wreckage, I thought for
certain I would
die. Then I heard the sound of the ship’s bell and saw the
schooner emerging
from the mist. Yours was the first face I saw as you leaned out over
the water
above me, like an archangel come for me. I thought you
were—fearless, so
brave.” She looked away, swallowing. “You only
smiled at me with encouragement,
though I clung to your hand so tightly I could have dragged you under
with me.”

She risked a glance at him, but he still watched
her with
intent.

Calmly, he asked, “You had no other
family?”

“No one close. My mother died when I
was a child. I thought
my brothers would care for me no matter what.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty.”

“And there was no man in your life
before me?”

She shook her head. “I spent most of my
time in our small
village. I just…assumed I would marry one of the gentleman
farmers, a man of my
father’s class, but I never found anyone. And then I met you.
You were so
caring, so concerned about me, making sure I had a place to stay with
fellow
parishioners. You stood by me at my family’s funeral, came to
visit me every
day. Talking to you made me remember that father would want me to go on
with my
life. To distract me, you told me stories of your family, the cousins
who were
like brothers to you, the sisters you doted on. Hearing about another
family
helped me remember the good times with my own.”

He cocked his head, his expression interested.
“And what
stories did I tell as I courted you?”

She smiled playfully, taking a chance that he
would respond
to flirting. “There were so many. We even spent our nights on
the steamship to India
talking
under the stars as we related our childhoods. But one story I remember
was how
you played the big brother when your cousin Daniel was teasing Susanna
about
her obsession with painting. If I remember correctly, Daniel ended up
with
paint all over him, and you were Susanna’s hero.”

A half-smile quirked his mouth.

In a softer voice, she added, “As we
spent time together, I
came to see what kind of man you were, so close to your family, yet
wanting to
serve your country. I admired that.”

He looked away then. Was flattery going too far?

She walked slowly toward him. “I know
it happened quickly,
but somehow we fell in love.” The lies came out of her so
easily now. “I was
alone in the world, and I worried that I was clinging to you, my
rescuer, but
you did not agree. You thought…you thought we were perfect
together.”

“I wasn’t looking for a
wife,” he said.

“You said as much, even then. But what
we had…you didn’t
want it to end. So you proposed marriage, and wanted to take me with
you to India.”

“And you didn’t mind becoming
an officer’s wife, following
the drum.”

She shook her head. “There was nothing
in Southampton
for me. A distant cousin inherited our family manor, but I did not want
to live
with strangers. You were all I thought I would ever need.”

“And we married so quickly that I did
not even have my
family join us?”

“You were scheduled to leave. There was
no time.”

She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t
ask when they’d
notified his family of the marriage. Because then she would have to
mention the
letter that loomed large in her mind, containing a secret that could
destroy
this fake marriage and her life. For Matthew had written
his parents
about a marriage—but Emily wasn’t the bride.

Lady Rosa had mentioned it to her when she was
still ill,
and Emily remembered feeling dull and resigned, thinking her masquerade
was
finished. In this letter, Matthew had written that he had married, but
had
given no other news, not even his wife’s name, promising to
explain everything
when he had more time.

But he never had. The Leland family simply
assumed he’d been
preparing his family for Emily herself, making them even more willing
to accept
her. And all along, the worry lurked in the back of her mind that
another Mrs.
Matthew Leland would return.

What had happened to his real
wife, and why wasn’t
she with him? For this was the one woman who could spoil everything
Emily had
worked so hard for.

It was so easy to study her, Matthew thought as
he watched
his “wife.” Emily Grey had not only beauty, but
true poise—and an answer for
every question. She’d leapt into his arms as if he truly were
her long-lost
husband. She even cried on command.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to build
a life for herself
here; his memory loss played right into her hands.

But not every word was a lie, for her story had
made him
remember the boating accident. The local Southampton
authorities had begged for any soldiers willing to sail out into the
storm to
help mount a rescue.

“Matthew?”

She stood close to him, put her hand tenderly on
his arm. He
could inhale her sweet scent, stare into the lovely blue of her eyes. A
woman
of such beauty surely knew how she affected the male of the species.
Did she
think she could sway him so easily? He looked forward to matching his
intellect
against hers.

He remained seated on the edge of the desk, which
almost put
them at eye level. He gave her a tired smile. “I’m
sorry, my mind must have
wandered. It is so damn frustrating to know something happened, but be
unable
to conjure up even one memory. How could I forget you?”

She blushed and looked away, pink
highlighting the
perfection of her skin.

“So you spent six months with
me?”

She nodded.

“And there wasn’t a
child?”

She shook her head, then whispered,
“But how I wished for
one when I thought you dead.”

It was his turn to nod, his deepest concern
satisfied. At
least there would not be a child hurt by what she’d done.
“I am sure I’ll have
many more questions, but not tonight. I am exhausted.”

“Oh, of course you are,” she
said swiftly, her forehead
creased with worry. “Can I do anything to ease you?”

He tilted his head and smiled, even as her blush
deepened.
He held her eyes for a moment, and she stared at him. He won this small
contest
when she lowered her gaze. The devil inside him wanted to ask what she
was
offering tonight. Her lips would taste sweet; her body would ease his
tired
soul and let him truly forget.

But would she surrender willingly, while inside
some part of
her retreated?